


grab the rings of saturn

by plantegg



Category: Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Emotional Baggage, Flowers, Gardens & Gardening, Hinata Hajime: probably the most oblivious person to ever exist, Insecurity, Komaeda Nagito: slowly learning to hate himself a little less, M/M, Mutual Pining, Sonia and Gundam: lesbian and gay solidarity, everyone has some shit to work through but they're working through it together, potentially during or after dr3 but yeah, set somewhere after 2.5, therapy hamsters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-18 03:49:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11866077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plantegg/pseuds/plantegg
Summary: Komaeda takes up gardening.(Or, Hinata Hajime has three things: horrible self esteem, a crush on the human embodiment of debilitating depression, and no idea what to do about any of it.)





	grab the rings of saturn

Komaeda has dirt on his face, and Hinata isn't sure how it got there.

There's a wide, dark streak of it on his left cheek, one that arcs from just underneath his eye to the very top corner of his lips, like a comet's tail curving across his skin. There's spatters of soil across the bridge of his nose, too, ones so small that they could be mistaken as freckles, a wonky constellation that finishes in tiny flecks slightly above the arch of his right eyebrow. Hinata's not even sure he knows it's there- he gives no sign of noticing it, turning pages in the book propped up on his lap with his metal hand and tapping out a rhythm on his knee with his other. There's dirt streaked across his fingers there, too, Hinata notes, and staining his palm, faint enough to be barely visible as Komaeda continues to tap his fingers on his knee, preoccupied with his book and seemingly oblivious to Hinata watching him.

"Komaeda," Hinata says, and his fingers still.

"Yes?" Komaeda asks, raising his eyes from his book and cocking his head, clearly unsure as to why he's being addressed. "Is something wrong?"

"No!" Hinata is quick to respond, too quick, and harsh enough to startle Komaeda, whose fingers slip on the book in his hand, leaving it to fall shut on his lap with a heavy _thunk_. "No, nothing's wrong,” Hinata continues, less frantic now, slowing himself down, trying to make sure that Komaeda knows that it's okay. "You just. You've got some." He waves a hand over his own face to indicate the smudges, and Komaeda, calm again, blinks at him slow and confused, before reaching up and dragging the back of his palm across his cheek.

"Oh," Komaeda says, bringing his hand away from his face, turning it over and studying the dirt there. His face is in an even worse state than it was before- the comet's tail is now more like a scribbled swirl of a black hole, and the constellation around his eyebrow becomes a series of malformed asteroids as he reaches up and rubs at them absently, picking up his book again with his other hand and finding his page with ease.

"Komaeda." This time he doesn't bother looking up, instead replying with a quiet hum to acknowledge that he's heard Hinata as he continues to read. "Why do you have dirt on your face?"

"Hm?" Komaeda barely sounds like he's listening, like it's absurd that Hinata's even _asking_ him this. "Ah, right. I've been gardening,” he says, like it's the most natural thing in the world, and shifts, moving from his cross-legged position to one with his knees up by his chest, book balanced across them precariously as Hinata stares at him in mute confusion.

"Gardening,” he repeats, and Komaeda sighs.

"Yes, Hinata. Gardening." Komaeda sounds exasperated, like he's trying to explain to a particularly slow child that the sum of one and one is two, and part of Hinata has to take a moment to wonder how he went from being the Ultimate Hope, the future of humanity, to being condescended to by someone who may or may not be able to tie their own shoelaces. "I'm sure you're familiar with the concept."

Hinata doesn't know where to begin.

Where could Komaeda have possibly gotten the equipment necessary for gardening? Sure, the Future Foundation sends supplies every month, but they generally sent food and medical items to the island, not shovels and seeds. When had Komaeda started doing this? Surely Hinata would have noticed that something was going on earlier, if he got _this_ covered in dirt every time he did it.  Seriously, who the _hell_ gave Komaeda gardening equipment? Was it Hagakure? Was Komaeda growing weed for Hagakure in exchange for Naegi's home address and a suspicious amount of rope and duct tape? How did Komaeda expect anything to actually _grow_ ? The sky is _red_ over the island, for fuck's sake, and the earth is dry and cracked everywhere he goes. It's really not an environment conducive to life, or growth of any sort. And perhaps most pressingly of all: what the _fuck_ ? What the _actual_ fuck?

Hinata doesn't ask any of these things. He isn't certain he'd get an answer for any of them that wouldn't just lead to more questions. Instead, he asks one single, simple, monosyllabic question.

"Why?"

Komaeda shrugs. "Why not?

Hinata doesn't know how to answer that. Komaeda pauses, and when Hinata doesn't speak again he shifts, curling his knees underneath himself and tucking a long, white strand of hair behind his ear with dirt-stained fingers. Hinata blankly stares up at the ceiling, confusion pinwheeling through his head as he listens to the quiet sigh of pages turning and tries to ignore the thoughts of starlight and soil tugging at the edges of his mind.

 

Komaeda has clover in his hair, and Hinata doesn't know how to feel about it.

It was presumably put there by Mioda, seeing as she's kneeling behind him in a patch of greenery that Hinata certainly doesn't remember being by the warehouse, tongue sticking out of her mouth and eyes narrowed in concentration. In one hand she clutches a fistful of clover, and the other darts in and out of Komaeda's tangled mane of hair, looping the strands around streaks of green and pulling tight, weaving it in a haphazard ring around his head. She waves when she catches sight of Hinata, or at least tries to, as her hand's still knotted around her bunch of clover, leaving her performing a motion that ends up looking more like she's telling him to get off her lawn than trying to greet him.

"Get it?" she calls, jostling Komaeda slightly as she moves, although he barely seems to notice, eyes shut and face turned upwards, smiling into the sun's warmth. "Because luck? And Nagito? And clover? And luck? And Nagito? And clover? And-"

"I get it, Mioda." He cuts her off before she can run out of oxygen and faint again, like she did the last time she tried to explain a joke to him. "... Were you behind this?" he asks suspiciously, once she's settled down a little (as much as Mioda ever settles down) and gone back to messing with Komaeda's hair, humming a tune to herself that he hopes to God isn't a new song that she plans on tormenting everyone with as she dots clover through the strands.

"Behind what, Hinata?" Komaeda's eyes are open now, but his smile is still there, albeit less vacant now that he's staring at Hinata, more of that sort of smirk of his that makes Hinata's palms sweatier than he would care to admit. A piece of clover floating just by his eye wobbles slightly as Komaeda cocks his head, still calmly staring him down, and Hinata's throat feels very dry all of a sudden, almost to the point of pain, like he's just breathed in a comet without realising it.

"This whole... Gardening thing,” he replies, as steadily as he's able to , swallowing to try and dispel the feeling in his throat. "Did you somehow set this all up just to do a bit?" He directs the question towards Mioda, unsure as to what he'll do if he looks at Komaeda for a second longer, and she shakes her head distractedly in response, focused on looping more clover into Komaeda's hair and securing it with a twisting, complicated knot.

"Ibuki had nothing to do with this! If Hajime ever showed up to the meetings we have every week, he might know that the Future Foundation were the ones that sent us the seeds!"

"The Future Foundation sent us... seeds?" Hinata asks. _Maybe if we ever got anything actually done at the "meetings" instead of just arguing about nothing and getting our asses kicked at Dance Dance Revolution by Owari I would show up to them_ , is what he wants to say, but all that would come from the conversation going in that direction would be Mioda dragging him to the next meeting/game night/sleepover thing and forming an all-lesbian tag team with Sonia and Pekoyama to thoroughly kick his ass at Guitar Hero. Again.

Komaeda nods, or at least tries to, head hardly moving against Mioda's hand gripping his hair. "They want us to try growing our own food, so that we won't starve if there's ever a delay or an issue with their delivery of supplies."

"... So they sent us clover?" Hinata takes a seat on the ground in front of Komaeda and Mioda, picking a piece of clover and staring at it suspiciously, gingerly holding it up to the light as if it might grow eyes or explode, spinning it between two of his fingers as he studies it.

"Clover is completely edible!" Mioda chirps, tugging at a particularly knotted piece of Komaeda's hair. "They said we're meant to boil it first, but you can eat it raw, too!"

"Mioda, don't–” Too late. Before he can even finish his sentence, Mioda's shoved her handful of clover into her mouth and begun to chew. Komaeda presses his fingers to his mouth to hold back his laughter, and Hinata slumps, head in his hands, wondering if it's too late for him to be executed.

"Clover probably wasn't the most practical thing for me to start growing, but I thought I would start with something simple and work my way up,” Komaeda says once he's managed to get his laughter under control, and Hinata stares at him through the cage of his fingers, watching as he shuts his eyes again, letting Mioda make a few final adjustments to his hair. He has dirt on his face again, Hinata notes, just a small streak of it this time, a crescent-moon swipe on the tip of his nose. The clover sways in his hair like the planets revolving around the sun, and it takes Hinata a few moments to notice that Mioda is giving him a Look over Komaeda's shoulder.

Hinata knows that look. It's the same one his cat used to give him, just before she reached out with a paw and knocked something important off a table. It's a look that knows things it shouldn't, a look that's planning something terrible. Mioda grins at him, danger behind her eyes as she swallows her ill-advised mouthful of clover, and abruptly stands.

"Ibuki's going to go work on a new song!"

"Please do not,” Hinata pleads helplessly, but she's already skipping off, calling "Bye, Hajime! Bye Nagito!" as she goes. As she leaves them, just the two of them, alone in the patch of clover. Leaves Hinata alone with Komaeda, with that tiny smudge on his nose, with the clover suspended in his hair and his wide, pale eyes, open again, watching Hinata's face as he chews on his lower lip and hopes that Komaeda can't tell how suddenly and loudly his heart is beating.

_Fucking Mioda._

"Why you?" Hinata blurts, after a moment of silent staring, and Komaeda blinks at him.

"What do you mean?"

"Why are you the one that's doing this?"

"Ah." Komaeda nods. "Well, no one else's talent really lends itself to this sort of thing. We thought about asking you to do it, but, well... after last time..."

Hinata cringes. "Right." The last time they'd tried to use his talent, it had been to control a murder of particularly violent crows that had been harassing them while Gundam was too sick to do anything about it. It had started with Hinata staring them down with his best Kamukura face on until they all turned and flew away, and ended in them pecking through every accessible wire on the island while everyone was asleep. It took weeks for Souda to get everything working again, and even longer for Gundam to convince the crows to stop squawking at Hinata whenever they saw him. They haven't asked him to try to Kamukura anything since.

It's not that his talent doesn't _work_. It just doesn't work in that same, organic way that it does for everyone else, the way it would for someone who'd been born with a talent, with depth and warmth behind their power. For him, it was always colder– always more detached, in some way, more harsh. Less soft. What you might expect from someone whose talent was made in a test tube.

Hinata swallows, trying to dispel the sudden bitterness creeping up through his body. "Yeah. I can see why they wouldn't ask me to try growing anything." Knowing the way things usually went with his talent, the clover would come up with teeth on it.

Komaeda smiles humourlessly. "My talent is mostly useless, but–”

"Komaeda, don't say that," Hinata interrupts, even though he knows from experience that it won't help. "Your talent _is_ useful,” he tries, but Komaeda's already giving him that vacant smile of his, the one that says "thank you very much for your input, but I'm going to ignore absolutely everything you just said." Komaeda doesn't realise how fucking _lucky_ he is, Hinata thinks to himself, lip curling into something between a smirk and a snarl at the irony of it, doesn't realise how fucking lucky he is to have been born with any talent at all. He's always so preoccupied with being a tool for others to create hope with that he doesn't even realise the light he brings just by _living_ , just existing in a way that Hinata could never even dream of being, no matter how many experiments were done on him. He doesn't realise what it's _like_ , Hinata thinks, to even have the slightest chance to be important, to be able to use what he has for _good_.

Komaeda only _thinks_ he knows what it is to be nothing.

He doesn't truly know how it feels to only ever bring hurt.

"My talent is mostly useless," Komaeda continues, once it's clear that Hinata's letting him win this time, "but we thought that I would be our best chance of being able to get anything to grow. It helped that I had a... Luck related incident shortly before I planted the seeds."

Oh. "Is that where the dirt came from?" Hinata asks, and Komaeda nods.

"It was stupid of me... I fell, all the way down there." Komaeda points to a hill nearby, and Hinata winces- its surface is steep, all hard earth speckled with small, sharp rocks and a ditch at the bottom, waiting like an open, patient mouth for unfortunate souls like Komaeda to tumble into. He can't imagine the fall was pleasant. "But it did lead me to this part of the island, which seems to have... surprisingly good conditions for growing things in,” he finishes, gesturing at the thick patch of clover surrounding them, and Hinata notices for the first time that he's wearing a pair of gloves, ones that look hastily cobbled together from a wonky patchwork of scraps.

"Where did you find those?"

"Hm?" Komaeda looks down at his hands like he'd forgotten they were there. "Oh! Tsumiki sewed them for me, so I wouldn't get my hands dirty again."

Hinata raises an eyebrow, remembering Komaeda's nonchalance during their last conversation. "I didn't expect that to be something you'd care about."

"Well, my impeccable hygiene is my one saving grace, after all," he says dryly, and when Hinata opens his mouth to object he keeps talking, clearly not interested in hearing his spiel twice in one day. "Besides that, it seemed to concern you greatly."

"I wasn't worried about the dirt being on you, Komaeda,” he manages to interrupt. "I was more worried about how it _got_ there in the first place. I–” He pauses, and then says a mental _fuck it_ , because if he says it, it’ll at least have been said, whether Komaeda hears it or not. "I was worried about you."

Just for a moment, so brief that anyone that didn't have Kamukura lurking in their brain wouldn't have caught it, Komaeda's eyes widen, like twin swirling universes expanding. "That's very kind of you to say, Hinata." He gives a small, empty smile, and the frustrated growl that wants to rise in Hinata's throat is barely kept at bay by the memory of that small, imperceptible movement of Komaeda's eyes. He'd _heard_.

Maybe he could even come to believe it.

"In any case, it seems to have helped immensely,” Komaeda says, folding his hands neatly in his lap, looking almost angelic, hair glowing in the pale sunlight that only just seems to reach the island, ring of clover suspended gently around his head. "I don't have any dirt on me today." He pauses, and Hinata swears that if he starts to talk about it not mattering anyway because he himself is the worst kind of filth that could possibly exist or whatever sideways nonsense goes on in that messed up little head of his, he's going to strangle... someone. Not necessarily Komaeda. Potentially himself. But someone.

Fortunately for both of them, Komaeda doesn't take his words down that particular path of self-loathing. "At least... I don't think that I do,” is what he says instead, turning his hands over and studying his gloves and the very tops of his wrists, metal and skin, barely visible from underneath his jacket. "I don't, do I?" he asks, once he's satisfied with everything he can see, turning his face towards Hinata, as if waiting to be inspected, head cocked slightly as he waits for a response.

Hinata moves without thinking. "Actually..." He trails off at about the moment his brain starts screaming _what in the absolute_ **_fuck_ ** _do you think you are doing Hinata Hajime I swear to God_ at him, just a second too late– he's already leaned in, hand outstretched, and all he can do is watch himself in horror, distantly, as though drowning, as he brushes the tiny crescent of dirt off the tip of Komaeda's nose with his thumb.

_Fuck._

If he thought his brain was panicking before, it's now gone into full meltdown at fucking _bodily contact,_ at having fucking _touched Komaeda's fucking face_ , at how close their faces are still, too close, and now Hinata's hand is hovering just by the side of Komaeda's cheek and his head feels like it's going to tear itself apart over whether he should just drop it altogether or if he should press his hand to Komaeda's skin, cup his face, stroke his fingers over his jaw and pull him closer and–

Komaeda blinks, wide-eyed, and Hinata is suddenly very aware that they have been staring at each other in complete silence for a good thirty seconds.

He drops his hand, curling it into a fist in his lap, and almost chokes trying to get his next words out. "You had! Um! You had a bit of... Uh! Dirt! On your nose!" He can't stop speaking in exclamation points, and Komaeda is looking at him like he's just crash-landed from another planet, right in front of him. "Sorry!" he squawks, several octaves higher than his regular speaking voice, and clears his throat before repeating "Sorry,” again, this time several octaves lower than his regular speaking voice. Fuck.

"...Thank you?" Komaeda says, more of a question than a response of any kind, and Hinata takes a moment to silently thank whatever's watching over him for managing to break him enough to the point where he somehow bewildered Komaeda into actually _thanking_ him for helping him like a normal _fucking_ person for once in the hell that is his life instead of embarking on a tirade about how _blessed_ he is to have Hinata help him despite his lowliness. Hinata swallows, and nods, and then nods again, frantically, unsure as to what to say or how to proceed or how to do anything other than just _stare_ at Komaeda, still entirely too close to him, clover gently framing his face as it bobs slightly in his hair as he breathes. It looks pretty, Hinata thinks to himself, chewing hard on his lip as he tries to think of something to say, _anything_ to say, as long as it manages to come out sounding normal. Komaeda _is_ pretty, he thinks, stupidly, still feeling dazed and lost. He's also weird, and confusing, and very worrying at times, but _pretty,_ too, almost celestial in his strangeness, like a distant star that has yet to be named, barely visible from earth, one that's made its home on the very edge of the universe. He's just a very pretty person. Hinata thinks it's safe to admit that, here in his mind where no one can hear it. But it feels like Komaeda _can_ hear him, like he's boring into Hinata's head with his pale eyes, calm and intangible, watching him as he sputters and flails like he's been caught in a net, and it makes his lungs seize up, makes his heart batter against his ribs in his chest as though it's grown wings and wants to escape.

"Are you alright, Hinata?" Komaeda asks cautiously, and Hinata realises that he's sweating, most likely visibly. How attractive.

"I have to _go_ ,” Hinata grinds out, tipping backwards from where he's been kneeling in front of Komaeda, scrambling back on his elbows to try and get free, probably ruining Komaeda's patch of clovers as he goes.

"Where?" Komaeda questions, impossibly calm in that way he always is, despite the display Hinata's putting on, and that _fucking_ clover sways and dips as he tilts his head questioningly.

"Uh... I'm..." Hinata finds that he can't even remember what he was supposed to be doing when he happened upon Komaeda in his garden, let alone where he was going. "I gotta. Yeah. Do some... Stuff."

"Stuff,” Komaeda repeats.

"You know. Stuff. Things." Hinata finally manages to get to his feet. "Uh. Have fun with." He waves a hand at the clover around them. "Yeah."

"... I'm sure I will," Komaeda says, and then, for some _fucking_ reason, beams up at Hinata, like a sudden streak of a shooting star, enough to knock the wind out of him. "Goodbye, Hinata."

Hinata makes a noise like a chew toy being stepped on. He turns and _runs._

He doesn't bother trying to remember what he was doing. He goes back to his room and sits, head in his hands, heart beating entirely too fast as he tries to figure out what the _fuck_ all that was about.

Later, he finds that he has a single piece of clover in his pocket.

He's not sure if he wants to frame it or burn it.

 

Komaeda has daisies looped around his fingers, and Hinata wants to know why.

His garden is now much larger than the small patch of clover it began as– it sprawls far across the ground by the hill like the creeping trickle of a newly formed river, with no obvious rhyme or reason as to where things are grown and why. A cluster of violets crawls down the middle of a freshly sprouted patch of carrots, which itself seems to encroach upon a thick down of wildly curling lavender, reaching its clawing hands into a dead snarl of _something_ that appears to have refused to grow. Komaeda sits idly amongst his daisies, occasionally picking one from the ground and adding it to whatever he's doing with the bundle in his hands, obscured by the jut of his crossed legs and bony shins. He removes a hand from the mess and waves when he spots Hinata, who swallows deeply and picks his way through the plants towards Komaeda, stopping just before he can step into the misshapen puddle of daisies around him.

"Can I sit?" Hinata asks, indicating the spot next to him, and Komaeda smirks.

"No 'stuff' to do today?"

"Shut up,” Hinata mutters, and takes a seat beside Komaeda, who shifts to give him room, flowers almost slipping between his fingers as he shuffles across the dirt.

"Daisies, huh?" Hinata asks, inclining his head towards the patch. "Didn't think you could eat those."

"Leaves, petals, and bulb," Komaeda replies. "They're not really very useful, but I wanted to grow some anyway, since I had the seeds." His fingers twist in his lap, still knotted around his daisies. "I'm sure Hanamura will figure out a way to use them, in any case."

"If he can't, Mioda will probably be happy to just eat them raw," Hinata says, although it comes out distracted and wonky sounding, casual tone thin and barely covering the fact that he's been completely blindsided by the implication that Komaeda might actually be doing something for _himself_ for once. "What are you doing with those?" He indicates the daisies in Komaeda's hands with a dip of his head, and Komaeda shifts his legs, curling them higher up towards his chest to completely obscure his hands from Hinata's view.

"You'll see,” is his reply, strangely light and teasing, and Hinata has no idea if the sudden swirl of _something_ that spins into his chest at that is fear at what those words coming from Komaeda might entail or a storm of flapping wings at the way they're said, in that tone he remembers from the very start, from the quiet rush of waves and a gentle pair of smiling eyes, just before Monokuma arrived and everything went to hell.

Hinata clears his throat. "What happened there?" he asks, pointing to the nearby tangle of dead foliage, and Komaeda's eyebrows crease just slightly into a frown.

"Oh. I tried growing blackberries,” he sighs, staring mournfully at the cluster of shrivelled leaves as if they've somehow disappointed him. "They were fine yesterday, but when I came to water them this morning..." He trails off, waving his hand at them dismissively. "They were like that."

Hinata nods cautiously. "Do you think it was a..."

"Luck related incident?" Komaeda finishes for him. "Probably,” he confirms, picking distractedly at his bunch of daisies where they lay in his lap. "I can't see any other explanation for it." He pauses. "Well, unless Saionji was bored. But even then, I would have thought she'd go after my carrots rather than something we could potentially make gummies from."

"I'm sorry," Hinata says, abruptly. "About your blackberries, I mean,” he continues lamely, and Komaeda shakes his head, smiling.

"Don't feel bad about it,” he replies, slicing a hole in the stem of a daisy with his thumbnail before gently sliding another through it. "It's the way things always go for me." His hands are still moving somewhere behind his knees, his bundle of daisies getting smaller as he goes. There's an odd calmness in the way he speaks about it, Hinata notes, and not in the usual way. Usually, when Komaeda talks about moments his luck has taken a turn for the worse, they're recounted with resigned, tired eyes and shaky hands, with a quiet voice and a smile that's too tight around his face to ever be comfortable. It's the kind of delivery that shows that despite it being something Komaeda is used to, it's never become something that he's _okay_ with.

"You don't seem too upset by it,” Hinata notes, and Komaeda's hands still their work.

"Well..." He shifts uncomfortably, and a gloved hand comes up to rub nervously at the back of his neck. "I've sort of had... a shift in perspective regarding my luck, recently."

Hinata raises an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Komaeda sighs, staring resolutely down into his lap to avoid Hinata's eyes. It's odd to see him so evasive– usually, Komaeda is blunt, brutal honestly, open to the point where it's uncomfortable, not quiet reluctance and unwillingness to explain himself. "Well... It's difficult to explain."

"Try me,” Hinata says, and he really hopes it comes off sounding the way he wants it to, with a silent "I have nothing better to do" lurking beneath it. He hopes that Komaeda can't hear the ugly, desperate way he means it, where the thought that lingers at the edge of his words is "Please, please tell me. I want to understand you."

Whichever way it sounds to Komaeda, it seems to be enough to make him uncurl slightly, to make him look away from his daisies, not exactly _at_ Hinata but not avoiding him, either, instead watching the tangle of dead blackberries over his shoulder. "I can understand how my luck might look to someone talentless. Someone like you."

"Ouch," Hinata replies mildly. Of course, the remark is more of a press on an old bruise than a fresh cut, but he doesn't mind giving Komaeda a semblance of the reaction he's looking for if it's going to get an explanation out of him.

Komaeda bites his lip, clearly lacking confidence in his next words. "Having a talent as volatile as mine is means that I've never been able to feel... _Safe_ before,” he says, tongue stumbling and tripping over the sentence as he goes. "No matter what it brought me... even if it was something good... it always felt _empty_ . Whenever anything fortunate happened, it was always overshadowed by the thought of _how long_ ? _What next_ ?" He runs a hand through his hair, exhaling deeply, and suddenly Hinata is acutely aware of how fucking _exhausted_ he looks, deep, heavy bags like dark half-rings of Saturn curving under his eyes, which gaze blankly onwards into nothing. Komaeda has the bony, bruised body of someone who's never been able to stop running, of someone who has had the earth slip from underneath their feet and crashed through the dirt time and time again. "Can you even imagine what it's _like_ ?” he asks, half of that awful, despairing laugh of his tumbling from his mouth with the words, and Hinata remembers glitching palm trees and the wide, cacophonous ocean, remembers chasing glowing strawberries across the walls of the funhouse and the way the smell of blood clung to his clothes, to his hair. He remembers the _feeling_ most of all, when he lies awake in his bed at night, as he listens to the sea hiss and slap at the shore outside his slowly rotting cabin. The anticipation and the uncertainty, clawing at his brain. That constant cry: _who's next? who's next? who's next?_

"You'd be surprised." His voice is scratchy and rough as he speaks, clinging to his throat. No wonder Komaeda had seemed so unphased by the killing, he thought. He had long grown used to the waiting by then.

Komaeda shakes his head, pulling at a loose seam on his glove distractedly as his gaze moves from the dead blackberries to Hinata's face. "I can't ever _relax_ , Hinata. Not after everything that's happened. Not when I know it's going to _keep_ happening." His words are achingly raw and vulnerable, in a way Hinata's never heard him sound before, his voice so soft and fragile that it sounds as though it's made of snow. This is not the Komaeda who handles his trauma like a grenade, tearing at it with his teeth and flinging it at people to defend himself, laughing as it explodes around him. This is the Komaeda underneath the twisted bravado, underneath the talk of stepping stones and hope and everything else he'd used to try to justify his pain, to make sense of it all. This is Komaeda, tired of running, quiet and sad and battered and bruised and wondering _why_ it had to be _him_. The Komaeda that, despite his endless admiration for talent, only ever wanted a normal, happy life.

Komaeda's hands are shaking, and Hinata says a mental _fuck it_ and wraps an arm around his shoulders, squeezing gently. He figures he deserves it, after that performance. Komaeda, to his credit, manages not to make it weird, for once– usually, any affection from Hinata leads to a small rapturous breakdown that can entail anything from tears of joy to confessions of everlasting love to, in one particularly bizarre incident, a life-sized, anatomically correct statue of him being constructed in the island's main meeting hall that he'd had to ask Nidai to help him dismantle. Saionji _still_ brings it up whenever she's feeling particularly vicious. Komaeda hesitates, and then seems to have a similar, smaller _fuck it_ moment, lowering his head, slow and nervous, until he's just resting it on Hinata's shoulder, like Hinata's the one that might break or run away, like Hinata's the fragile one out of the two of them at the moment. Hinata squeezes him again, lets him know it's okay, and he sinks deeper, leans his head fully on Hinata, breath quiet as his shoulders unknot themselves, as the shake slowly rolls out of his hands.

"What changed?" Hinata asks, once Komaeda's calmed down a bit, when he feels his breathing even out where their ribs line up, pressing together. Connected.

Komaeda swallows. "I woke up." He leans away, sliding out of Hinata's grasp, who lets him go, reluctantly. "I woke up," he repeats, "and you were there."

Hinata feels like he's been sat on by Owari, Nidai and Togami simultaneously. "What,” he says, tonelessly, too shaken up to even remember to make it a question, feeling the blood halt in his veins as the words drop like a tonne of bricks and shatter across the floor of his mind.

Komaeda smiles humourlessly, shaking his head. "I always knew that my talent would end in one of two ways: killing me, or killing everyone around me." He gives a quiet, sad laugh. "Turns out it was both." He runs a hand through his hair, tugging on it like he's trying to anchor himself, stop himself from floating away, avoid being swallowed by the ocean's wide mouth. "I felt the fire start, and I thought, _this is it_. This is where it ends." His hand moves up over his chest, leaving his daisies abandoned on his lap, and rubs at the centre of his sternum as if chasing a phantom pain. "And then, later, I pulled the trigger, and that wasn't it, either." There's a bit more life in his smile this time, a fistful of stars sprinkled behind his eyes, the spin of the planets tugging the corners of his mouth upwards. "And I opened my eyes, and I saw you, and then I thought... well." He shrugs, picking up his daisies again. "Maybe, instead, it can end like this."

"With me?" Hinata asks hoarsely, all of a sudden acutely aware of the dryness of his mouth, and Komaeda's lip quirks.

"Almost,” he replies, tugging at his daisies before holding them up to the light and inspecting them, shifting them in his hands, sunlight glinting off the metal of his left wrist as his sleeve slips down. "With happiness,” he says, and turns his gaze towards Hinata. "Now, close your eyes."

"What?" Hinata notices for the first time that the daisies form a perfect loop, hanging in a circle around Komaeda's fingers as he lifts them up, away from his lap.

"Close your eyes. I told you that you would find out what I was making, didn't I?"

Quietly, Hinata obliges, shutting his eyes and ducking his head as he feels something settle softly onto his hair. He reaches up a hand and touches it gently, and finds his fingers stroking across petals, curving around to encircle his head like an embrace.

When he opens his eyes, Komaeda is smiling. "This morning, my blackberries were dead,” he says, barely audible over the pounding waves rushing in Hinata's ears. "This afternoon, you came to see me." He shrugs. "Perhaps it's stupid of me, but... I think I'm learning not to be so afraid of luck related incidents." He bites at his lower lip, pulling at a loose thread on his glove as he studies Hinata, and then reaches up to gently adjust the circlet of daisies where he'd knocked it askew on his head. "Maybe I should think less about the gunshot," he says, lowering his arms once he's satisfied with the position of the ring, and looks Hinata square in the eye, "and more about waking up afterwards." He shrugs, casting a glance at the corpse of his blackberries, settling back and curling his knees underneath himself as he waits for a response.

"Komaeda..." Hinata swallows all the bizarre, affectionate nonsense that's threatening to crawl up his throat and spill all over Komaeda, and tries again. "You don't have to be so afraid any more. You're not the only one with luck now, you know." Feeling brave, he wriggles slightly, bumping Komaeda with his hip and getting a gasp and a short, surprised laugh in response. "Besides, no matter what happens with your luck..." He bites his lip and stares down at his lap, hands forming knots around each other as his heart thrums, ringing with the music of the planet's spin as he carefully chooses his next words. "You'll always have something waiting for you on the other side."

The words are heavy, thick with a promise, with a silent _someone_ , and Komaeda stills next to him, and for a moment Hinata's worried that he's fucked it all up, that he's scared him off, but then he relaxes again, smiling his usual calm, polite smile. "Thank you, Hinata,” he says, but there's a small galaxy spinning behind his voice, starshine in his eyes when he looks at him, quick and quiet, before turning his face upwards into the sun's rays, lips sealed and clearly not planning on speaking again for the rest of the afternoon.

By the time Hinata's back in his cabin, he's almost forgotten about the daisies ringing his head. He's slow when he takes them off, careful not to tear their gentle links as he removes them, and slides them between the pages of a thick, heavy file from the Future Foundation. He weighs down its cover with a strange metal cube that Souda gifted him that seems to do little but beep, and leaves the petals to dry into a flat loop of memories, into starshine and soil and a promise. Into something that he hopes will last.

 

"I need advice," Hinata says, sliding into a chair across from Sonia.

Sonia doesn't look up. One of her hands is gently stroking a fat, dozing hamster, and the other is splayed out on the table between them, with Tanaka carefully painting black polish across her nails. Nearby, Nidai is sat on the ground and leaning against a wall in his binder and a dad-tacular pair of cargo shorts, watching Owari with a calm smile on his face as she lies with her head resting in his lap. His large, thick fingers are tangled in her hair, playing with it gently, looping it around his hands as she stretches out like a cat being petted, grinning lazily. Unbidden, Hinata's mind offers him a thought of moonbeams wrapped around his fingers, of a weight in his lap and a streak of smoke and starlight gazing up at him softly, and he almost chokes on his own tongue. The sound rouses Sonia, who looks over at him, an eyebrow raised. "This isn't going to be about Komaeda, is it?"

"Uh..."

She gives a deep, heavy sigh, and presses a palm over her face, something unintelligible that sounds an awful lot like _fucking hell_ slipping from her mouth, muffled behind her fingers. Tanaka gives her a comforting pat with his free hand, the other still working away at her nails with the polish, and she shakes her head, long, blonde strands of hair swinging about her face as she moves.

"I think I might... like him," Hinata mumbles. "Like, _like_ like him,” he adds, lamely, cheeks flushing, fully aware that he sounds more like a confused twelve year old than someone who destroyed the world and put it back together again. Sonia stares at him without blinking, eyes boring holes into him as he tries not to flinch at the sudden chill rolling up his spine at the expression on her face. It's always so _cold_ in the meeting hall, he thinks, feeling goosebumps rise on his arms. He has no idea why everyone seems to hang out in here all the time.

"You're a genius,” Sonia deadpans, and nearby, Owari bursts out into a full on cackle. She pushes herself up off the floor and climbs fully into Nidai's lap, leaning back against his chest and grinning over at Hinata like something deranged.

"Holy crap, finally! I thought you were never gonna figure it out! Thanks, Hinata! Saionji owes me ten bucks now!"

"I don't even _know_ if I like him,” Hinata protests weakly, and Owari rolls her eyes as Nidai lets out a deep, rumbling laugh. Sonia squeezes her eyes shut, clenching a fist, and Tanaka rubs circles on her back, distractedly murmuring "Deep breaths," to her as he draws an intricate pattern on her thumbnail with red nail polish.

"Hinata Hajime. My dear friend," Sonia says, once she's managed to get herself under control. "I am eternally grateful to you for saving all of us, and I do care about you very much. But my _goodness_ ." She sighs, fingers clenching tighter, hamster sniffing at her hand nervously as it shakes. "You may be the most _oblivious_ person I have ever encountered."

"Seriously, dude," Owari chimes in. "For someone who was smart enough to save all our asses during the class trials, you can be really dumb sometimes." She pauses, contemplative. "Well, almost all our asses. Sorry, babe." She pats Nidai's knee gently, and he gives a deep rumble in response. "And no offence, Tanaka."

"None taken" he replies, still working away at Sonia's nails, and Hinata has to pause for a moment to marvel at how remarkably _chill_ everyone is about the whole 'most of us were responsible for each others deaths' thing.

"I just... I don't know how I'm meant to feel about him." He sighs, and Sonia gives a firm nod, the first positive action she's performed since he first entered the room. Hopefully, it means this little five-person therapy session is progressing well.

"What you think you're supposed to feel towards Komaeda is inconsequential, Hinata. What matters is how you _actually_ feel about him, and I think you know what that is. You're just not sure about what words to put to it." She reaches for her nearby cup of tea and takes a sip, watching him over the rim of her cup as he drums his fingers nervously on the table.

"I..." He feels like the roof of his mouth is made of glue. Sonia puts down her cup and slides the hamster across the table towards his hand, where it sniffs him cautiously.

"Try petting her while you talk. She'll help you calm down and center your thoughts."

He nervously reaches a hand towards the hamster, and it recoils slightly at the movement. Unsurprising. Animals don't really seem to like him much any more– he assumes that they have an aversion of some sort to Kamukura lurking around in his head. Tanaka makes a series of noises in his throat, and the hamster glances back at him before inching over and allowing herself to be petted, slowly relaxing as Hinata's fingers scratch at her fur.

"Her name is Shoelace, by the way,” Tanaka offers, looking up from Sonia's nails to smile gently at the hamster– Shoelace, apparently– as she raises her head and allows Hinata to pet under her chin.

"Shoelace,” Hinata repeats.

"Mioda named her," Sonia says, resting her chin on her hand and studying Hinata as he fights the urge to squirm under her gaze, "Tell me. How do you feel when you're with Komaeda?"

"...That's difficult to answer," Hinata responds, and barely spots Owari and Nidai exchanging a Look out of the corner of his eye. He swallows, picking Shoelace up in one hand and stroking the fur on her head with another. "Nervous, sometimes. Especially when he gets. You know. Like _that_ , and he's hard to calm down. But mostly it's that _good_ kind of nervous, if that makes sense. Like when you're at the top of a roller coaster, just before you're about to go down."

Sonia nods, tracing the rim of her teacup with her fingers. "Just nervous?"

Hinata shakes his head. "It's weird, but... I feel calm, when I'm around him, at the same time. More like I was... before." He shrugs. "Maybe it's because he's so strange that I feel normal by comparison, but somehow, my head feels clearer when I talk to him." The words feel like they're a long snarl of tangled rope, slowly unknotting itself as it slides out of his mouth. So often, his brain feels foggy, the way you'd expect after all the times it was pulled apart and screwed back together, after it was turned upside-down and stretched out so far he's amazed it didn't snap. Some days, he fears that he's still trapped in his pod, that the simulation never truly ended and at any second the sky will turn dark and Monokuma will appear out of nowhere. On the days where he has to dig his nails into his palms to remember that he's real, where his breath feels like reaching hands, clawing up his lungs and strangling him from the inside out, Komaeda is an anchor for him, the heavy weight of his metal hand reaching out to touch his shoulder enough to keep him grounded. To help him remember that he is _alive_.

Sonia's expression is schooled, blank neutrality, but there's that excited gleam behind her eyes, the one she gets when she's babbling about serial killers, or when the leading lady in her favourite drama does something especially cool. "And does he make you happy?"

" _Yes_ ," Hinata says, in a rush. "And I know he shouldn't, and I know I probably don't deserve it, after everything that's happened, but he _does_ , and–” He almost drops Shoelace, who squeaks indignantly and scuttles back across the table to hide in Gundam's scarf. "Oh my _God_."

Sonia allows herself a smile. "You've put it together, haven't you?"

The rings of Saturn spin around Hinata's head, carrying with them the smell of dirt and daisies. "Oh my _God_ ," he repeats, his stomach lurching, feeling as though he's been dropped from a great height without any warning at all, like his bones are scattered across the floor like forgotten specks of glitter,

"Yay, Hinata figured it out!" Owari cheers. "Are we done now? I need a nap, after all that."

"Oh,” Hinata mumbles, more to himself than anyone else. "I have to die now." He says mildly, voice sounding distant even to his own ears.

He thinks he might hear Tanaka snort and mutter something that sounds like "From experience, I would not recommend it," followed by a rumble of agreement from Nidai.

"Why, Hinata?" Sonia asks, an eyebrow raised as she watches him flounder.

"What else am I meant to do?" Hinata asks helplessly. " _Tell_ him?" He wheezes out a desperate, hoarse laugh. "How would he even _respond_ to that?"

"I think you have some idea."

Hinata shakes his head, and Sonia sighs before looking over to Owari and cocking her head, receiving a deranged looking grin in response.

" _Nice statue, pencil dick_ ," Owari hisses in an eerily perfect imitation of Saionji's voice, and he winces reflexively. "Seriously, Hinata, I don't see why you're worried about how Komaeda's gonna react to you telling him about your big old crush on him. Dude thinks you hung the moon."

"But I _didn't_ ," Hinata says, and feels the room go still around him. "I didn't. And that's exactly what the problem is."

"You don't think you're good enough for him." It's a statement, not a question, but Hinata feels like he has to respond to Sonia, anyway.

"No. Yes. Sort of. I don't know." He shakes his head. "Komaeda doesn't care about _me_ . Komaeda cares about talent, and I don't have any that's my own. And he's going to realise that, some day, that I'm not _talented_ , or _special_ , or _important_ , the way he thinks I am, and then..." He trails off, chewing on his lip. "And then he'll stop caring, won't he?"

"Hinata..." Owari's concern is plain in her eyes, and Hinata realises that his little impromptu five-person therapy session has gotten far too intense, far too quickly.

"I see," Sonia says grimly. "You're afraid you can't live up to the expectations Komaeda has for you." Hinata nods in response, throat too tight for him to speak, and Sonia's expression softens. She reaches across the table to take his hand, balled up in a tight fist, and give it a gentle squeeze. "Hinata, I don't think you're giving Komaeda enough credit."

Owari snorts. "Never thought I'd hear anyone say _that_."

Sonia ignores her. "Komada knows that you don't have a talent, Hinata. He's known that since we were in the simulation.

"Yeah, and he _hated_ me." Hinata's fist clenches at the memory. "The only reason he cares about me now is because of Kamukura."

Sonia shakes her head. "He could never hate you. He felt betrayed, yes, but it was more than that. I think that he was _jealous_ of you.”

Hinata feels like the air has been stolen from his lungs. " _Excuse_ me?" he asks incredulously, and she stares back at him, unblinking, over the rim of her teacup as she takes a sip.

"Hinata, Komaeda's talent has never brought him anything but pain in the long run. All the things that he says about hope and despair are just him trying to convince himself that everything that's happened to him is justified somehow. To be honest, I think he would be happiest if he didn't even _have_ the talent he does."

Hinata thinks back to their conversation amongst the daisies, to waiting by Komaeda's pod, digging through his brain, trying to wake him up. "I know that,” he says as calmly as he can, biting back the urge to yell. "But what does that have to do with me?"

Owari snorts. "Dude. Come on."

" _What?_ " he asks desperately, and Sonia sighs, setting her teacup back down on the table.

"If it were possible for him to do so, Komaeda would switch places with you in an instant. He envies how _simple_ your life is, how you don't have to be afraid of everything falling apart for you all the time." She shrugs, distractedly tucking a stray bit of hair behind her ear, casual as though she's not dropping a fucking bombshell on Hinata. "I think you represent safety to him. The kind he's never been able to have."

"What the _fuck_ ." Hinata's voice is flat and hoarse, making the words a statement rather than a question. " _How?_ How can he even _think_ that? How doesn't he realise how fucking lucky he is to have his talent? I-"

"You would switch places with him too, if you were given the chance,” Owari cuts him off. "Yeah. You two have a lot of shit to work through." She grins at him. "But I think you'll be good for each other. You can work through it together."

Hinata's still reeling. "But-"

"My dude." Owari seems determined to stop him from finishing any of his sentences today. "As far as I can tell, you're the only thing that's ever helped Komaeda feel safe in any way, other than his weird, unhealthy hope bullshit. And you're the only one who can calm him down and talk sense into him when he gets too far deep into his weird, unhealthy hope bullshit. You balance each other out." Out of the corner of his eye he sees Sonia share a small, approving smile with Tanaka. "Also, like it or not, Kamukura's still part of you. You still have his talent, even if it doesn't always go the way you expect it to." She leans back against Nidai's chest, who's slowly nodding at her words in agreement, eyes shut. "Komaeda likes you just fine the way you are, Hinata, reserve course, Kamukura, whatever. You're _you_ . And he likes _you_ , not just hope, or talent, or whatever the fuck else he's always talking about. Trust me on this one, dude. As one of the only people in a functional romantic relationship on this island, I know what I'm talking about."

"... Huh," Hinata mutters, slowly. It's a lot to take in. But the more he thinks about it, the more he thinks about daisies and dirt, of quiet conversations and sincere, gentle smiles, the more it begins to sound like the truth.

_I woke up, and you were there._

"... I think I should talk to Komaeda,” he continues, and Owari nods vigorously.

"Oh, dude, absolutely. Communication is key." She reaches up to high five Nidai, who reciprocates without even looking to see where her hand is. Sonia smiles slyly, and raises her hand to her mouth, blowing on her nails to help the polish dry.

"Thanks, guys," Hinata says, sliding his chair back across the floor as he moves to make his exit, still buzzing with the energy of everything that's been said.

"Hinata." Sonia's voice stops him, and he turns back to her, still poised to go.

"We're playing Monopoly at our next meeting, if you're interested in coming."

Hinata can't stop the grin that spreads across his face. He fucking kicks _ass_ at Monopoly. He's not sure if it's Kamukura's analytical skill and luck or just his own prowess, but the only people that can come close to beating him are Kuzuryuu (presumably because of the whole mob empire thing) and Komaeda when his luck's on an upswing. "See you there,” he says, and Sonia breaks out into a pleased grin, the expression on her face the last thing he sees before he turns and heads out of the meeting hall, feeling lighter than he has since–

God. He can't even _remember_ the last time he felt like this.

_Maybe I should talk to them more often,_ he thinks.

It's the best idea he's had in awhile.

 

Komaeda has twelve foot high sunflowers now, and Hinata can't help but think that it's getting a little ridiculous.

"Seriously,” he groans, staring up at the tall, thick stalks surrounding him, shooting up like upturned, grabbing hands towards the sky. "I know that your luck tends to ignore the laws of reality, but come _on_."

Komaeda shrugs innocently. "Are you complaining?" he teases, shooting Hinata a smirk as they walk side by side through his plants, winding around the random bursts of sunflowers and strawberries and heads of lettuce that grow in patchwork tangles around their feet. Hinata isn't sure why Komaeda asked him to meet him today (as if he hadn't been planning on coming by and seeing him anyway), sliding a note under his door at an inhumanly early hour of the morning telling him he was needed at the garden. He's still not entirely certain that he's not being dragged out into the sunflowers to be murdered, in the one place on the island where he can't be seen or heard by anyone else, the one place where barely anyone other than himself and Komaeda ever dare to venture.

"Not at all,” he returns easily, narrowly avoiding tripping on a sudden patch of violets as he turns his gaze back towards Komaeda. "Just wondering what happened to you to  make them grow so tall, and so quickly."

"Well, it's why I needed your help today. Here we are." He stops abruptly, and Hinata notices they've reached an empty piece of earth, sitting conspicuously bare in amongst Komaeda's randomly placed plots of greenery. "There was an... incident, yesterday. My wrist was injured."

Hinata looks at him sharply. "You should have said something."

Komaeda shrugs. "I didn't think it was important. Tsumiki bandaged me up well enough." He tugs his sleeve up slightly, just enough to show the long, white bandage that wraps around his wrist, beginning just below the end of his palm.  He slides the fabric back down with a heavy sigh, casting his mournful gaze over the empty patch of ground in front of him, shaking his head. "However, it does make it rather hard for me to continue with my work. I know that something like me has no right to ask anything of you, but... would you be able to help me with my gardening today?"

"Absolutely." Komaeda's sentence has barely finished before Hinata's response leaves his mouth, and he can't help the violent blush that spreads over his face, embarrassed at his own eagerness, at his own painfully obvious enthusiasm for any excuse to spend more time with Komaeda. "Wait, are you sure?" he asks, coming back to his senses with a dull, heavy thud at the reality, the _gravity_ of what Komaeda's asking him to do as it sets in. "Your garden is probably our only chance of survival if we ever run out of food. I've never planted anything in my _life_ ." Hinata pauses, a sudden memory creeping up on him, blurry around the edges. "Actually, I had cacti once." He immediately shakes his head. "They died. I've killed _cacti_ before, Komaeda. Like, I am the _worst_ choice to ask for help with this out of anyone on this entire island. I'm going to fuck this up _irreparably_. Like, scorched earth, dead crops, poisoned water supply–”

"Hinata. Enough." Komaeda cuts off his ramble, mercifully, the corners of his lips twitching, clearly struggling to hold back his laughter. "Honestly, that's the sort of talk I'd expect to hear from _myself_ , not from you."

Hinata narrows his eyes, red-faced and suspicious. "You're making fun of me,” he accuses, and Komaeda blinks back at him, owlish and innocent.

"I wouldn't dream of it,” he replies primly, and the smile behind his words is obvious, infectious, crawling warm across Hinata's skin as he shakes his head and grins back, despite himself. "In any case, I'm sure you won't do too much harm. After all, I'm not the only one with luck, right?" he asks, and gives a casual, teasing shrug as Hinata sputters, trying in vain to regain the air that seems to have abruptly vacated his chest.

"Oh, you're _definitely_ making fun of me now." There's no bite to it– rather, there's pure delight, barely tamed, at how _relaxed_ Komaeda seems, how oddly self-indulgent and friendly he's being. "Seriously, though. Even if I somehow don't end up killing your plants, this is, like, _your thing_. Are you sure I won't be intruding?"

"I'm certain of it." Komaeda's confidence seems to leave him, then, his cockiness ebbing away as he picks at the edge of his bandage, clearly having trouble choosing his next words. "If it's you, then... I don't think I mind. I think I want you to... be a part of it." He swallows, shifting uncomfortably, and the only response Hinata can offer him is a mute stare. Komaeda, with some difficulty, manages to meet his gaze, unsteady but still there, still watching him with eyes like turning planets as he waits for a response.

Hinata tugs at the collar of his shirt. It's hot today, he thinks to himself, uncomfortably so, making sweat rise on the back of his neck as he chews at his lower lip, still staring at Komaeda, who's starting to look a little afraid, to shrink a little, bravado beginning to melt. He looks like he thinks he's stepped out of line, done something wrong, like he's about to go into another one of his famous self-deprecating rambles, throwing himself at Hinata's feet and begging for forgiveness as he tears at his hair and rants about how woefully insignificant he finds himself.

"Well, you'll have to tell me what to do,” Hinata says, before Komaeda can open his mouth, or start crying, or just straight up implode on the spot. "Like I said, I have literally never planted anything in my entire life."

Thankfully, that manages to get a smile from Komaeda. "Here,” he says, crouching down and motioning for Hinata to follow him. "I'll show you how."

 

Gardening is... not as hard as he expected.

It's not particularly easy, either. Hinata's back starts to complain after about ten minutes of hunching over the soil, digging out holes for Komaeda to place seeds into. The spade he's using is rough against his hands, and he's too proud to ask Komaeda for use of his gloves, especially when Komaeda's the one who's actually making physical contact with the dirt. His knees ache where he kneels on the ground, occasionally making disconcerting creaks when he shifts aside to give Komaeda room to work, or leans up to wipe the sweat off his forehead, hot and gross in the sticky, heavy island heat. _Attractive_ , he thinks to himself, and winces as he feels the press of the spade's handle, rubbing rough against the sore, red skin of his palm as he digs a new hole in the dirt for Komaeda to place a seed into and cover over.

It's not all bad, though. Hinata's mostly silent as he works, but Komaeda keeps up a constant, easy babble, his voice filling the air with excited chatter about his plants, both the ones he has currently and the ones he plans to begin to grow in the coming warm months. It's odd, in a way, to see Komaeda so enthusiastic, so happy, especially about something other than talent and hope, but far from unwelcome. Hinata could watch him like this forever, the high curve of his grin as he details his plans for a crawling passionfruit vine down the side of the warehouse, the joy in his eyes when he stretches his arms above his head to trace the figure of the apple tree he hopes to eventually see come to fruition, if his luck behaves itself. There's something so wonderfully intoxicating about hearing Komaeda speak about the future, for once, like it's something he might actually _live_ through, like it's not just something for other people to experience. It makes the pain of the work worth it, cools the heat of the sun against his back, soothes the ache in his fingers as they wrap tight around the spade's handle. It's that strange calm Komaeda always brings to him, there in the buzz of his voice, in the gentle scrape of his hands against the soil, the stretch of his grinning mouth keeping Hinata where he needs to be. Anchored.

"You seem happier,” Hinata says thoughtfully when Komaeda pauses for breath. "Like, happier than you were before you started... this. You seem less..."

"Crazy?" Komaeda supplies.

"Worrying,” Hinata responds. "I think gardening's been good for you." He shrugs, rubbing absently at a sore spot between his forefinger and thumb. "It seems like you have more of a sense of... purpose, now. Something to believe in."

_Something to hope for._

Komaeda gives him an uneasy smile. "That sounds... accurate,” he admits nervously, and reaches past him to place a seed in a freshly dug divot in the soil, transparent in his attempt to avoid Hinata's eyes.

"Yeah?" Hinata asks, setting down his spade and shifting onto his knees, placing his hands on his lap, attentive as he waits for Komaeda to continue.

Komaeda turns back, not quite able to meet Hinata's gaze, and gives a nod in response, shaky and uncertain. "I..." He trails off, picking uncomfortably at a thread on his glove. "It's a stupid thought for me to have, and selfish, too. I'm sure you don't want to be bored by all the ridiculous, awful things that go on in my head."

"No, you can tell me," Hinata interrupts, before Komaeda can fully climb aboard the fast train to self-hatred town and shut the door behind himself. "It's definitely going to be more interesting than anything I have to say."

Komaeda raises an eyebrow. "I thought I was boring."

Hinata can't stop himself from rolling his eyes, slumping back with crossed arms as Komaeda looks on coolly. "Come on, Komaeda. You literally _cannot_ hold that one against me." Komaeda says nothing, and Hinata gives a long, heavy sigh, running a hand harshly through his hair as he silently curses Kamukura and all of his fucking edgy bullshit nonsense, curses Komaeda for always choosing the _worst_ , most _assholeish_ ways to avoid dealing with his problems, curses himself for ever developing his huge, awful crush on the literal human embodiment of debilitating depression in the first place. "Of course I don't think you're boring. Would I seriously come to see you every day if I didn't want to spend time with you?"

"You could just feel sorry for me," Komaeda counters, nonchalantly studying his gloves as if he barely even knows that Hinata's there, given away only by the twitch of his jaw, brief and quiet and hardly even noticeable as he wraps a stray thread from his glove around his finger and pulls.

"You know that's not true,” Hinata responds as calmly as he can, hands clenching into knots on his lap. "Just tell me. I want to know. Please?"

The 'please' seems to do it. Komaeda's expression shifts from calculated indifference to something more vulnerable, more open, more fearful, as though he's unsure as to how he should proceed. Hinata watches as he swallows nervously, throat flushed red from the heat of the day, only just visible over the collar of his shirt.

"I've never really thought of my talent as useful. If you can even call it a talent,” he begins hesitantly, tracing the edge of the bandage on his wrist distractedly as he speaks. "I always thought that I could never really do anything on my own– that I could only be a stepping stone, something for other people to use to create hope."

Hinata nods encouragingly, urging him to continue. It's the same thing he's heard time and time again, but there's something that feels significant about it, something about the use of the past tense that makes him think that this time it might actually be going somewhere that won't be weird and unhealthy, for once. "Go on,” he says when Komaeda pauses, unsteady and unsure, giving him a small smile that he hopes comes off as comforting instead of unnerving.

It seems to work, as Komaeda takes a deep, shaky breath before continuing, fingers still working absently around the edge of the bandage. "I've never been able to create hope on my own, no matter how hard I tried to. I could only ever be worth anything by being used, Hinata. And whenever I tried to do anything useful on my own, I–” His voice cuts off abruptly, and, faintly, Hinata hears a quiet whirr as Komaeda's left hand clenches into a fist. "My talent could only ever bring pain,” he finishes softly, and Hinata's heart moves in a violent lurch in his chest.

"Komaeda, that's not–”

Komaeda holds up a hand to silence him. Once again under control, he shifts, uncurling himself, and finally manages to meet Hinata's eyes, a small smile somehow on his face, a genuine one, one that sends a shock through Hinata's whole body, like a shooting star ripping through him without warning. "Before, I was useless. And I still am, mostly." Hinata tries to open his mouth to object, but his tongue feels like it's forgotten how to move, leaving him in a mute, dazed stare as Komaeda continues to speak. "But now..." He stares up at the sunflowers, grin breaking wide over his face as he watches the glow of the petals, illuminated by the high, wide face of the midday sun, casting hazy shadows like reaching hands over Komaeda's smiling face. "Now, I can _grow_ things, Hinata,” he continues, and a joyous, unruly laugh bubbles out of his mouth as he looks back at him, eyes wild and radiant in a way that he's never allowed himself to be before. "I've been able to do something _worthwhile_ with my talent. I can be _useful_ . I've never known what it's like to be _useful_ before, not on my own, not by taking things into my own hands and creating something by myself, and I–” His voice breaks off, and he leans in close to Hinata, as though he has a secret that he's almost afraid to share. "It's stupid of me," he begins again, softly, like the quiet rush of the ocean's tide, "but I feel as though I might be… creating hope." He swallows roughly, blinking like he can't quite believe he's said it out loud. "And I know it's selfish, but... it makes me happy. It makes me feel like some day, I could be more than just a stepping stone. Like some day, my hope could shine for others." He stares hard at the ground between them, at the seed resting in the divot in the dirt. "The way yours does, Hinata."

Hinata has forgotten how to breathe.

They stay like that for a moment, Komaeda with his head bowed, eyes turned to the dirt, and Hinata staring at the top of Komaeda's head, silently imploding as his heart batters against his ribs like a moth at a desk lamp, until, without warning, Komaeda speaks again.

"Do you think that's... wrong of me?"

"Komaeda..." Although he knows it's a bad idea, Hinata can't stop himself from reaching out and grabbing Komaeda's hand, earning a muffled squeak of surprise in response. "Of _course_ I don't think it's wrong of you. I think it's _amazing_ ,” he finishes. Komaeda stares back at him, other hand pressed to his lips, wide-eyed and wonderful, and Hinata feels like he might _actually_ start crying. "Komaeda, you deserve to be happy. You've always deserved to be happy. You know that, right?"

Komaeda blinks at him, like it's something he's considering for the first time. "Oh,” he says, shortly, and then seems to run out of words, gripping onto Hinata's hand as he stares back at him like he's a question that cannot be answered.

"And you've always been useful, Komaeda. You've always been worth something, and your talent is _wonderful_ . _You're_ wonderful. It just took you a while to notice, is all." Hinata can't keep himself from smiling, and he feels so _soft_ , so embarrassingly soft, as the hazy look of surprise on Komaeda's face begins to morph into an answering grin, like the slow rise of the sun breaking through the grey of early morning, quiet and dazzling as his head cocks sideways, as his next words begin to form.

"Oh,” Komaeda says again, slower this time. Like he's beginning to understand.

"Komaeda, you don't have to just exist for other people to use. You can do so _much_ on your own, with your talent." Komaeda's slouching back now, still with that hazy, loopy grin on his face, a faint, pink blush rising up on his cheeks. "So many incredible things." He shakes his head, his smile becoming a wild grin that takes control of his entire face, unable to believe how _far_ they've come, both of them, to even be _having_ this conversation. "And I'm so fucking _proud_ of you for finally realising it. For realising how amazing you are."

Komaeda's head lolls on his shoulders. "Hinata," he slurs.

He then tips backwards, toppling over into the dirt, hand slipping out of Hinata's grasp as he goes, tipping over and landing with a hard _thud_ in a nearby pile of violets.

"Komaeda!" Hinata cries, body jolting in shock. Komaeda blinks lazily and, wow, his face really is _very_ red, and sweaty, too, locks of white hair sticking damply to his forehead and cheeks, and–

Oh.

Oh no.

Hinata makes a sudden series of connections.

Komaeda. Komaeda, in his giant hoodie that he never takes off. Komaeda, with his already poor health and frail, easily damaged body, in his giant hoodie that he never takes off. Komaeda, outside, working in the heavy, gross island heat, being slowly smothered by fabric as he works. Komaeda, who is now propped up on his elbows, eyelids swaying open and shut, with his pink, sweaty face, and harsh, heavy breaths.

"Shit."

"Language, Hinata,” Komaeda reprimands him mildly, struggling to sit back up, hands scrabbling at the soil underneath him as it continually gives away at his efforts.

"Komaeda, don't– oh my _God_ ,” Hinata wheezes when Komaeda slips again and crashes back into the dirt, head smacking violently against the ground. He lurches forward and pulls him up, grabbing him by his shoulders and yanking him back into a sitting position, where he slumps forward, head bowed. "You need to– here." Hinata takes Komaeda's hoodie by the shoulders and starts to pull it down, earning a quiet sigh in response.

"Oh... this really _must_ be a dream..."

Hinata chokes on air, still trying to drag Komaeda's hoodie down his arms. "Komaeda, I am _trying_ to save you from dying of heatstroke. Don't make this weird. Please. Just this once."

Komaeda sighs again, shaking his head like he hasn't heard a word Hinata's said. "How unlucky of me."

"You– I– I don’t– oh my _God_ ," Hinata blurts, and finally manages to pull Komaeda's hoodie off, tossing it aside into the dirt as Komaeda sags back down into a heap on the ground. "Stay here,” he says, in his sternest voice, which is probably unnecessary, considering Komaeda doesn't seem like he could actually go anywhere, even if he wanted to. Hinata gives a final glance at Komaeda's prone body, sprawled in the dirt, turns, and _runs_.

 

Fortunately for both of them, Komaeda's garden is right by the warehouse, the one they use to store supplies for emergencies; any medical equipment Tsumiki might need, a secret stash of gummies for when Saionji needs to be bribed and, most importantly right now, huge crates full of bottled water in case of any issues with the island's water system that Souda can't fix quickly. Unfortunately for Hinata, it's also the warehouse that's the farthest away from all the other buildings on the island, and, therefore, the place Mioda is exiled to whenever she needs to work on her music. She's balanced precariously on a tall stack of crates when Hinata bursts in, tuning her guitar, tongue poking out of her mouth in concentration as she twangs the strings violently. She only needs to look up for a second to take in Hinata's dishevelled form, the dirt streaked across his palms and the worried expression creasing his red, sweaty face, before that sneaky, knowing Look spreads over her face. Hinata barely resists the urge to flip her off, instead giving her a silent glare as he digs through the crates and loads his arms with more bottles of water than necessary, probably, stacking them in his arms until he can't carry any more.

"You never saw me,” he tells her, even though he knows it's useless. The last thing he hears before he leaves the way he came is a sly, knowing giggle, one he feels chasing behind him as he runs, stumbling over his own feet in his haste to return.

 

Komaeda's managed to sit up on his own by the time Hinata gets back, clutching his head in his hands. Hinata sinks to his knees in front of him, casting the majority of the water bottles to the side save for one, which he unscrews with sweaty, slippery hands. "Do you think you'll be able to hold this?" he asks Komaeda, who, after a second, slowly shakes his head. "Here," Hinata says shortly, and peels Komaeda's fingers away from his temples, tilting his head back with one hand and pouring the water into his open, waiting mouth with his other as gently as he can. The majority of it misses, splashing onto Komaeda's chin and dripping down his collarbones, making him shiver as it soaks into his shirt, but it seems to help, to cool Komaeda down a little, to bring him back to earth. "More?" Hinata asks once the bottle is empty, and Komaeda shakes his head, swallowing deeply. Hinata puts the empty bottle down and reaches back across to Komaeda's face, carefully brushing his sweaty hair back from his eyes and stroking across his face, feeling the strange, uncomfortable heat of his burning skin. "You need to take better care of yourself, Komaeda,” he mutters, as kindly as he can in his worried, distracted haze, cupping Komaeda's face with both hands and staring at the pink blush of his skin, barely noticing that their foreheads are almost touching until Komaeda gives a brief, wheezing giggle, eyes still half lidded, but with a light shining behind them that makes Hinata's chest feel strangely tight.

"What?" he asks, voice somewhere between confused and exasperated, and Komaeda gives a small, weak shrug.

"If I didn't know better, Hinata, I'd think you were about to kiss me."

Hinata's not sure what it is that prompts him to move. Maybe it's the quiet blush of Komaeda's skin, the perfect nearness of his smiling mouth, the nebula of pinpricks of dirt left on his cheek by the brush of Hinata's shaky hand. Maybe it's the adrenaline still bursting through him like it's tracing the path of a shooting star, the pounding of his heart and the coursing rush of his blood, screaming through his veins. Maybe it's the thought that floats through his head, the one that says _I've already made at least ten bad decisions already today, what's another?_ Whatever it is, it's strong enough to make him say one of his increasingly frequent mental _fuck its_ , makes him slide his hands down to cup Komaeda's jaw and lean in, lower his head, and softly press their lips together.

_Oh_.

For a moment, Komaeda is still. So still, in fact, that Hinata begins to stop, to move back, to ready an apology and prepare to cringe over this incident every day for the rest of his life. But the moment he starts to pull away is the moment Komaeda reaches out and grabs him, digs his fingers into his shoulders and drags him closer and kisses him back, kisses him like he's dying, like he's almost afraid to let it end. Like he needs it.

It's clear that Komaeda has no idea what he's doing, at first, all teeth and spit and far too wild until Hinata slows him down, kisses him softly, eases his shallow gasps into deep, quiet breaths. He feels the heavy heat of the day coil up around his body, feels like he's melting, slow like a record winding down as Komaeda's fingers relax on his shoulders and slide up to wrap around the back of his neck, feels like something he's been waiting for has finally slotted into place. He feels _right,_ feels anchored, with Komaeda's mouth on his. Feels like he's drowning in moonlight in the best way possible, like he's falling through the stars in slow motion, limbs outstretched and ready for a cloud of daisies to break his fall whenever it is that he lands

Feels like this is his favourite bad decision he's ever made.

"You kissed me," Komaeda says when they break apart, sounding punch-drunk and dazed, tracing the fingers of his right hand over his red, kiss-swollen lips. "You actually kissed me," he repeats, and when his face breaks out into a grin it's like a star exploding. "I really am lucky!"

"Yeah,” Hinata mutters, rubbing his thumb distractedly across where he's cupping Komaeda's jaw. "That, and you're too pretty for me not to kiss you,” he says, before he can stop himself, fingers freezing as the words come unbidden from his mouth, from somewhere in his chest, from somewhere filled with comet streaks and daisy chains, quiet and soft, frighteningly new and sweetly familiar all at once.

Komaeda looks like he might actually pass out this time. Hinata kisses him before he can open his mouth and ruin the moment.

 

Hinata has dirt on his hands, and he knows exactly how it got there.

His back cracks as he stands and stretches, rolling his head on his shoulders and reaching his arms up into the sky. The pumpkin patch, freshly watered by him, extends its leafy vines far through the garden, curling around the bases of sunflower stems and clawing its way through bundles of lavender, leaving sudden, orange spheres everywhere in its wake. Thankfully, it's left enough space for Hinata to plant new seeds, to grow blueberries and rhubarb, to add to the already vast garden with new plants for them to grow together.

A sudden pressure on his shoulder stops his thoughts and spreads his mouth into a grin as he turns to find Komaeda behind him, one hand on Hinata's shoulder, the other clutching a bottle of water. "Here,” Komaeda says  with a gentle smile, and passes the bottle to Hinata, who unscrews it and drinks gratefully after a grunted murmur of thanks.

He still hasn't managed to get Komaeda to ditch the hoodie entirely, but he has at least convinced him to roll his sleeves up, just enough for the frail line of his scarred forearms to make an appearance. His long, white hair is tied back in a ponytail to keep it off his face and neck, and he's wearing an elderly, fraying sunhat which he borrowed from Sonia and managed to repair with Tsumiki's help. Hinata makes sure he stays hydrated on the days that they're in the garden together, which is most of them, and they take breaks regularly, resting in the shade of the warehouse's shadow, talking about nothing and trying to ignore the occasional harsh screaming and violent crashing that comes faintly from within the warehouse's walls whenever Mioda decides to have a jam session. Hinata hands the rest of the bottle to Komaeda, who takes a long drink, turning to survey Hinata's work, fingers slipping down from his shoulder to hesitantly take his hand.

Hinata squeezes his fingers reassuringly. "How are the strawberries doing?"

Komaeda sighs. "I think I've killed them. Their leaves look like someone's set fire to them, and the berries are growing _white_ , for some reason. I didn't even know that was _possible_ ,” he laments, and Hinata rubs his thumb soothingly across the back of Komaeda's hand, reaching over to take the bottle from Komaeda and have another sip.

"I'll take a look at them,” he says, once he's finished drinking. They've found that when they work in conjunction on the garden, the issues that their talents cause for it tend to balance each other out, that if one of their talents goes haywire, then the other's will most likely be able to solve the issue in some way or another. "And I'm going to need your help with the tomatoes, too. They keep shrivelling up before they can even really start to grow, no matter what I do to them."

Komaeda says nothing. A suspicious amount of nothing, in fact.

Hinata side eyes him. "...You wouldn't have had anything to do with that, would you?"

Komaeda stays silent, but the corner of his lip twitches, just slightly, just enough for Hinata to roll his eyes.

" _Komaeda_ ," Hinata admonishes. "Even if you hate tomatoes, you _cannot_ keep using your talent to tamper with our crop."

"I don't know what you're talking about,” Komaeda says mildly, still trying in vain to keep his smirk in check. Hinata lightly swats his arm, unable to be truly mad or keep his grin off his face, and Komaeda breaks out into laughter, sound bursting from his mouth as his face finally cracks into a smile.

"Unbelievable," Hinata sighs dramatically, shaking his head with a smile as Komaeda keeps laughing, still gripping tight onto his hand, leaning on Hinata for support. Eventually, he subsides, falling into a comfortable quietness, body still tilted, propped up by Hinata's shoulder. Together, they stand and study the wide reach of their sprawling garden, the halo that encircles them, their mismatched puddle of plants like the rings of Saturn around them. Starshine and sunflowers, dirt and daisies. Happy and safe.

Komaeda leans in and presses a kiss to Hinata's cheek and, for the first time in a while, he feels as though he's exactly where he's meant to be.

**Author's Note:**

> for anyone reading this and thinking "wow dangan ronpa in 2017 what a throwback": i literally accidentally fell horrifyingly ass-backwards into the series for the first time this year, after somehow avoiding spoilers since 2014, and it is literally all ive been able to think of since like. june. this was the result. im so sorry  
> shoutout to [marty tallykale](http://tallykale.tumblr.com/), whomst i cannot thank enough for being incredible and beta'ing this nonsense for me, and also to [raven wolfdawn](http://wolfdawn.tumblr.com/) for not only getting me into dr, but also for drawing [this perfect art](http://wolfdawn.tumblr.com/post/163713851644/everyday-with-this), which inspired, you guessed it, the bit where they kissed, which was originally just a short little thing that somehow turned into... 14k words. holy shit. fuck. goodness me.  
> the title is from garden shed by tyler the creator, because the entire flower boy album is So Good and also inspired this fic more than i care to admit whoops  
> if you wanna party like it's 2014 and dangan ronpa's still relevant, hmu on [twitter](http://twitter.com/kyoukajlrou/) or [tunglr](http://yuurikkatsuki.tumblr.com/) and we can be mates (please god i am so fucking lonely)  
> thank for read  
> UPDATE: [PLEASE LOOK AT THIS ABSOLUTELY INCREDIBLE ART OF THIS FIC AND CRY OVER HOW WONDERFUL IT IS](http://tallykale.tumblr.com/post/171746498037/komaeda-blinks-at-him-like-its-something-hes)  
> UPDATE 2: [EVEN MORE BEAUTIFUL ART IM GOING APE IN MY LIVING ROOM](https://twitter.com/leedalangin/status/973090338259652614)  
> UPDATE 3: [FELLAS YOU ARE NOT GOING TO BELIEVE THIS SHIT BUT HERE IS SOME MORE BEAUTIFUL ART THAT YOU NEED TO USE YOUR EYEBALLS ON](https://twitter.com/galacticray/status/998107295992221696?s=21)


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